


Before Everything

by Hecate



Category: DC Extended Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Pining, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29423373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate/pseuds/Hecate
Summary: [Croc is a monster. He crawled right out of a child's nightmare, made himself real in the tunnels under a city. Heatepeople.It's important to remember that.]orGQ leaves the team.
Relationships: GQ Edwards & Harleen Quinzel, GQ Edwards & Rick Flag, GQ Edwards/Waylon Jones
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Before Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chantefable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantefable/gifts).



He has never touched Croc with solid ground under their feet. 

It's easy to do in the water when he is sinking away from his team, from his life. Easy to reach out for a moment, his hands covered with neoprene. 

Croc feels solid there, the only real thing with GQ in the dark. And GQ pushes his palm against Croc's chest to get his attention. He lets his fingers trail across Croc's back when Croc dives beneath him. And he doesn't need a reason for any of it.

Croc lets him.

Underwater, GQ doesn't wonder why.

When they come up again, he never looks at Croc. 

He makes his way to the team, reports to Flag. Trades a few quips with Harkness, smirks at Harley when she is around, ignores her absence when she isn't. 

He doesn't talk to Deadshot because Deadshot is always looking at Flag. GQ isn't prone to wasting his time.

Croc is silent.

But then, he is most of the time.

It makes it easier not to look at him, makes it easier not to jerk away. 

Away from the water, GQ remembers. 

Croc is a monster. He crawled right out of a child's nightmare, made himself real in the tunnels under a city. He _ate_ people.

It's important to remember that.

On land, GQ does.

In the water, not so much.

He avoids Croc after missions. He ducks out of the long march back to the cells, knows only by rumor how long Flag lingers with every single member of the team. A camaraderie shared between them, a mockery of what GQ had with the men he led to their death in Midway City.

But in the water, it's hard to remember all that. Harder still to stay away from the monster that shares the dark with him. And GQ doesn't know what to do about that.

~*~

He doesn't dream of Midway City.

It doesn't surprise him. He never hung on to past missions before, he always let go of the blood and the explosions and the fire. There wasn't anything worth keeping, no memory to make his, no dead to raise.

But now, GQ's nights are filled with their new missions. He dreams of the water, and he dreams of Croc. He touches him, runs his finger over rough skin, arches into Croc's hands. Wakes up hard and surrounded by darkness, the air conditioning a poor imitation of waves.

Stays still and silent and tells himself to stay awake.

~*~

He quits the Squad and it's almost painful how easily Rick complies with his request. Rick must have seen something on his face because he steps closer to GQ and pauses. For a moment, GQ thinks Rick will touch him, will do something.

Instead, Rick shrugs. "I kinda expected this."

GQ almost asks him why. Doesn't. Instead, he thinks of Croc underwater with him, thinks of Croc saving his ass in Midway City, and he leaves the room with a salute and a back so straight it hurts.

~*~

His new team is made of normal soldiers, normal _humans_ , and GQ falls back into the routine of it easily. This makes sense, after all. And it's what he has wanted when he joined the military. Not working with criminals, not turning his back to murderers and monsters, thinking they will save him.

That can't be his life.

They ask him about his last mission but they don't ask him because of Deadshot or Quinn or Croc. They don't know about that, no one outside of Waller's crazy missions and plans does. For a while, it's nice to live like this.

The missions are normal missions again, boring and predictable. Sometimes, he thinks he could do them in his sleep. He could do them with fewer men. After Flag and his people, this should be good, should be a relief. It isn't. 

Boredom is dangerous. Boredom gets you killed.

He almost dies a few times. He ends up in military hospitals, he ends up surrounded by grim doctors and armed guards and his blood everywhere. 

Sometimes, when he wakes up later, there is something off with his room. 

A bad romance book left on the table next to his bed, words scribbled on its first page. _You're stupid and repressed, read this as a manual._

An open bag of chips on one of the chairs. 

The blinds were drawn down to force out the light, to cut a sightline.

The memory of a warm touch against his shoulder, a voice scolding him. "Do better, soldier." 

A hulking presence in the corner of the room. GQ's body going limb because right then and there, he was safe.

It all fades away when he wakes up. Still, it's not easy to ignore these memories, these snapshots. Moments that could have been nothing and everything. Dreams, maybe, or something else.

He tells himself that he doesn't care either way.

It's surprisingly easy to be a coward.

~*~

Flag calls him and asks how he is doing. GQ tells him he's fine, he's good, "No worries, Rick," and he thinks that Flag doesn't believe him.

"You're throwing away your career," Flag says, voice flat.

GQ shrugs. Doesn't care that Flag can't see him.

"I'm good here. Fewer monsters."

For a moment, silence hangs heavy between them, awkward even with the distance. The phone is warm in his hand, slippery.

"I never thought you were the kind of man who backed away from a fight," Flag finally says. And GQ thinks he's impatient, disappointed.

It doesn't matter.

He's not working with Flag anymore, he's out of that mess, and Flag's expectations are not the ones GQ has to live up to.

"That are not the monsters I'm worried about," he says. Swallows.

He hadn't meant to tell Flag this.

Flag is silent for a long time, and GQ can almost see him standing in the hallway of some government building, Waller's office way too close. Or maybe he's in Belle Reve, leaning against the wall next to Deadshot's cell, in the tunnels leading to Croc's.

GQ thinks of ending the call.

Finally, Flag says, "That's not what I meant."

GQ laughs though it's not funny at all, it's terrifying. Because Flag knows, and he isn't supposed to. _GQ_ isn't supposed to know.

"Yeah," he answers and wishes he could lie about this.

~*~

He goes out drinking with his team. It's fun, it's easy. Torres is flirting with everything that moves. Wilson keeps on buying shots for everybody, and GQ is pretty sure she is getting the money out of their wallet whenever they aren't looking. Miller and Nguyen are deep in some discussion about clowns of all things.

He could stay in this moment forever, a cliche turned solid and true. But it fades away. Suddenly, his team turns pale and hollow-eyed. They turn into faces that were familiar months and months ago.

He left them in Midway city.

He left them behind. 

He shudders, closes his eyes. Tells himself that it wasn't his fault, that they never stood a chance. Not in the streets of that city, not in the water beneath it. There were monsters all around them, real monsters. There was the goddess that Waller and Flag and their dumb plans set free. 

It wasn't their battle to win.

It belonged to Flag and the monsters he brought with him.

His men were just decoration.

They were only there to die.

GQ swallows and opens his eyes.

Looks at the new shot that Wilson put in front of him and tries to smile at her.

"You alright, boss?"

GQ shrugs, nods. 

Goes back to drinking.

~*~

He still sees Flag sometimes.

In a hallway in a nondescript military building, in a meeting with some suits, in a bar crawling with soldiers.

On the tarmac of an airfield, Flag and his team, GQ and his own. Two ships passing each other by with Harley yelling rude comments in his direction and GQ's team looking at him curiously later.

So he still sees Flag. Sometimes, he sees the rest of them. And maybe he tries to never look all that closely at the figures at Flag's side.

Maybe he _is_ a coward, after all. A coward who doesn't want to figure out what he's afraid of.

~*~

Torres is usually the first one in the water with GQ. He's smaller than Croc and slower than Croc, and sometimes GQ is still surprised by that. Is taken aback when Torres' voice comes in tinny and cool through his earpiece instead of a garbled shout through the water, Croc pointing at something.

Torres is first and Nguyen second, the three of them scouting ahead until GQ tells the rest to follow. It's old and new at the same time, routines that have turned strange after his time with Flag. With Croc.

GQ doesn't think about it.

He doesn't think about it unless he's lonely and he can't sleep and his mind is going in circles. He doesn't think about Midway City then, not ever. He thinks about the months after, the months that were easy, too easy.

So GQ only thinks about that when he can't sleep. And he only sleeps for hours when he ends up in a hospital.

~*~

He hasn't seen Flag for a while.

Hasn't seen the Squad.

He tells himself he's glad about it. Knows himself to be a liar.

~*~

The TV is on in the mess, some news channel always running, the background noise of his life. There is always a mess and always the news, sometimes in capital letters. Presidents and weather anchors and reporters in wastelands, the echo of firefights behind them. It's the same story, again and again, changing but not in any way that matters. Not in a way that ever catches his attention. Until today.

The reporter is standing at the entrance of a train station, workers heading underground behind him. Some of them are smiling, and GQ can imagine the jokes thrown around, the sound of hard-soled boots on the ground.

He knows this place.

He's been there. With Flag and the Squad and Croc. And for a moment, between the plastic tables and the rumbles of personnel and soldiers and his team, he's back in that moment. 

For a moment, Flag hasn't sent him to die yet. Some of his men are still alive. And Croc is standing in front of them with a challenge in his eyes.

~*~

Harley almost kills Miller during a mission.

It's a coincidence, as stupid as it sounds, Harley out of prison again and GQ on a mission with his team. They run into each other in a dark alley, Harley with her disaster behind her and GQ running right into it, weapons drawn.

She would never have thrown that knife if she had seen him, GQ thinks. But she saw Miller, and she threw it. And suddenly, Miller was on the ground, and there were weapons aimed at Harley.

For some minutes, it's mayhem.

Then, he ends up on his knees in front of her, raises an arm to protect himself from the swing of her bat, expects the pain and sound of shattering bones. 

It never comes.

"You fucker," he hears, and Harley is glaring down at him, a hand against her waist, leaning on her bat.

"Uh," he says.

"What are you doing here? With these...people." A sneer, distaste in her voice.

GQ gets up. "Cleaning up your mess?"

Harley pouts. "This isn't a mess. This is a quest."

GQ frowns. Waits. He knows Harley. She likes to talk.

"I'm looking for that bastard that shot Croc last mission," she finally says.

His heart stutters, a sharp beat out of rhythm. Something inside of him falls away, becomes heavy and cold. "What?"

"Flag is all about orders again and his dumb plans, and we keep telling him there is no time. But noooo, Mr. Perfect Soldier needs to cross all Ts and dot the Is or whatever, and Croc is really looking like shit," she tells him, rushed and annoyed and so very Harley.

GQ swallows, gets up. "Croc is hurt?"

Harley frowns, pokes his forehead. "Did I hit you there?"

He pushes her hand away, takes a step closer. "Harley."

"Yeah," she says, suddenly calm. "He is."

"And you left," he says, voice tight.

"Pleeeease," Harley drawls. "It's not like I'm the only one who ran off."

GQ stares.

Harley shrugs, winks, and runs into the dark alley behind them.

He doesn't stop her. Doesn't move. Doesn't answer when Wilson asks if they could go after her. He is somewhere else, in another moment, and the world refuses to right itself.

~*~

So Harley almost kills Miller, and that's the only reason he walks back into Belle Reve. Because Flag should know what she is up to. It has nothing to do with her words.

It has nothing to do with Croc.

The lie doesn't hold up, not even in his head with no one listening to it but himself.

GQ walks into the compound, and it's still familiar. He doesn't look at anybody or anything until he is at the quarantine section.

Nobody tries to stop him. 

It's odd but for some reason, he isn't surprised. Somebody expected him to come. 

There are guards in front of one room, hands resting on their weapons, their bodies angled towards the door behind them.

GQ smirks. 

He walks past them without a word and into the room. The door behind him closes with a sharp click, one of them probably shoving it but he doesn't care, doesn't look back. Just stands at the door with his heart in free-fall and his body frozen.

There is only one bed in the room. It's surrounded by machinery, low sounds filling the room. Squiggly lines on a screen.

Croc is not moving.

This is not new, not unfamiliar. Outside the water, Croc always stayed more still than not. And yet, it's different. He's pale in an odd way, green and brown giving way to subdued muddy colors. His eyes are closed. 

He looks vulnerable.

Croc has never been vulnerable.

GQ hates the sight of it.

He swallows. Sits down next to the bed. Almost reaches out to touch Croc. Instead, he balls his hands into fists, his fingers burning, his fingernails digging into his palm. 

Stares at Croc and waits.

~*~

At some point, GQ falls asleep.

He dreams of shapes in the water below him, pulling him under; he dreams of shapes above him, pulling him up.

He wakes up, stiff and hurting, and he knows which touch was familiar. 

GQ stands up, stretching against the ache in his muscles and heart. Walks to the lone window in the room and looks through the metal bars down at an empty parking lot. Looks up at a moody sky. 

Thinks of Croc at his side before they dove into the water, Croc's eyes on him, watching. Waiting. 

Always waiting. 

GQ turns back to the bed and pushes the chair closer to Croc. Sits down again.

Finally takes Croc's hand.

~*~

He isn't the one to save Croc.

A part of him almost feels disappointed that he could not be the hero, the knight in shining armor. But he ran away, and Croc has never been a damsel. The story wouldn't fit them, and GQ isn't sure which story does.

The scientists find a cure, come into Croc's room armed with needles and syringes. GQ reaches for his gun when he sees them, grasps empty air. It's not with him, the guards took it from him at the entrance. But he puts himself between Croc and the newcomers anyway.

"Stand down," he hears, Flag stepping past them. "They are here to help."

He trusts Flag. Trusts him with his life and trusted him with his death. Still, for a moment, he can't move away, can't let them get close to Croc.

"GQ," Flag says.

He takes a deep breath and steps aside.

GQ watches as they give Croc injections, watches as they check the machines and their recordings. Sits down next to Croc again when they leave.

Flag puts his hand on GQ's shoulder, warm and solid. Squeezes. "He'll be okay."

GQ doesn't answer, and he doesn't react when Flag leaves.

He waits for Croc to open his eyes.

~*~

He leaves in the chaos of Croc waking up, doctors and nurses and guards crowding the room, and he ducks out of it all with a brief glance back.

Croc is looking at him.

GQ gives him a tiny wave and a grimace of a smile and feels dumb seconds later. Croc bares his teeth, the gesture both impatient and tired. For a moment, GQ stops, stands still. Thinks he could stay, wait for the crowd to leave. Talk to Croc. But he has no idea what to say.

Outside of the room, Flag is leaning against the wall.

"I'm..." GQ starts and that is as far as he gets.

Flag huffs. "An idiot?"

"I thought I was a coward?" GQ asks.

Flag shrugs. Slaps his shoulder and walks away.

GQ looks after him "Nice talk."

Sits down in a chair next to Croc's room. Just in case.

~*~

Waller wants his team with Flag's for a mission.

For a brief moment, GQ wonders what would happen if he said no. But the thought vanishes as quickly as it came, useless and unwanted.

It's not like Waller gives out choices.

It's not like GQ truly wants this one.

He's tired of being afraid.

~*~

"Hey," he says.

Croc grunts. 

"You doing okay?" he goes on.

Another grunt.

GQ swallows. Sits down next to Croc. Closer than he used to.

He watches his team settling in, their eyes darting to Croc. Wilson is whispering with Nguyen, leaning against his shoulder. Miller raises an eyebrow at him. GQ shrugs, smiles.

He watches as the Squad comes together. 

Harkness spread out on the seat across of him, eyes flittering around. He waves at Katana and smirks at her silence, nods at GQ, a raised eyebrow the only greeting GQ gets. 

Katana next to Flag, as quiet as Croc and still so very different. 

Deadshot on Flag's other side, the one that used to be GQ's before. He probably should be pissed that a criminal has taken his place. 

But he's not. 

"I am," Croc suddenly says.

GQ looks at him, confused for a moment. "Oh," he finally says. "That's...good."

Croc smirks at him, the row of his teeth showing between his lips, sharp and strange. GQ swallows.

"So you're back with us?" he hears Harkness ask, a challenge in his voice.

He shrugs and doesn't look at Harkness. His are eyes still on Croc, and he's thinking of the missions before he left, the missions after.

Croc cocks his head.

GQ wants to reach out and touch him again. Instead, he attempts a smile and has no idea why.

"Okaaaayyyy," Harkness drawls. "You two go on and stare at each other."

Croc grins, sudden and brief.

And GQ knows that this will all go wrong. A soldier and a monster are not made for fairytales, they are made for blood and disaster and death. 

But still, he smiles.

~*~

Croc jumps into the water first, and he doesn't turn to look if GQ is following.

'Because he knows,' GQ thinks, 'he knows.' 

He could be okay with that.


End file.
